Zora Bernice May Cross

Love Sonnet Xvii - Poem by Zora Bernice May Cross

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Beloved, lest I should remember, IMust swift forget the wonder of last night.Hot memory would but blacken out my sightAnd dull my senses till they seemed to die.How could I live, remembering that sigh…That breath…that sob…that all sublime delight?Eternal joy is death, I think, and mightNot such sweet madness kill me, coming nigh?

I died with you that hour. Or, if not, mergedMyself in you, commingling all my lifeWithin your own, until I fled and fledInto your blood; and my pure pulses surged,Heaped with the wedded bliss of man and wife…Dying, I lived…and living, I was dead.